Morning Glory

This morning as I ran through the National Park I broke into the clearing
that gives a sweeping view over the city below and the ranges to the East
and West. In the early morning grey the shadows still played, but the form
was unmistakable to the slight right, halfway up the slope. A large brown
fox, caught out in the open, stalking down wind from the cluster of rabbit
burrows under constant development.

With one quick word of encouragement Hootie was off, a black streak blazing
across the freshly cut hay, hastening the fleeing fox into the ferns along
the fenceline in the distance. Despite the feral and destructive nature of
this introduced species the beauty of God's creation was with me as I ran
up the rise to the top of the clearing and turned to look back over the
city to the bay in the distance.

Sitting like a layer of cotton wool on a saucer, a shroud of low oppressive
cloud blocked out the urban sprawl below, protecting my wonder at creation
from the distraction of artificial features. Off to my right a large
electrical storm was moving in over the western plains, the arcs of
potential difference lighting a ladder from ground to ceiling, moving
closer as the enlightenment of dawn was being challenged by the darkness of
a storm front.

A gentle breeze gathered strength, the smell of fresh hay and rain
harbingers of the storm that was gradually drowning out the sight and sound
of morning. As I turned to move off home the sound of thunderheads moved
closer and started to be accompanied by the first droplets of rain, come to
launder the sleep from nature's eyes. The thunderheads broke overhead and
the power of creation was reinforced even further.